


our love keeps the things it finds

by pocketsizedquasar



Category: Moby Dick - Herman Melville
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Sharing a Bed, Trans Character, he/they queequeg, i mean ishmael is always trans whenever i write him but it doesn't really come up here per se, just know that he's trans. bc he is.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketsizedquasar/pseuds/pocketsizedquasar
Summary: queequeg is homesick; ishmael comforts him. a gift for livie <3
Relationships: Ishmael/Queequeg (Moby Dick)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	our love keeps the things it finds

**Author's Note:**

> hey lads long time no post. this was done for a gift exchange i organized in our discord, but alas, it is very, very late.  
> feel free to check out the art i made for this fic [here](https://pocketsizedquasar.tumblr.com/post/641519526813581312/staying-up-late-listening-to-your-husband-ramble), and check out my moby dick webcomic adaptation at  
> [mobydick-thecomic.com](http://mobydick-thecomic.com). much love to you all; hope you're staying safe!

when ishmael rolls over in his ( _well, queequeg's_ ) bunk, he's surprised to find queequeg still awake, staring blankly at the top bunk above him. ishmael blinks blearily once, twice; it's still dark, and the sky outside is cloudy, scarce allowing any starlight to filter through the deck prism and the cracks in the planks above. 

ishmael shifts in queequeg's arms, sleep falling off of him with the too-thin, too-small blanket. he's used to waking up like this, by now, midway through the night, curled in his harpooner's arms -- queequeg's presence helps his rattling brain, but even he can't make ishmael's sleeplessness disappear completely -- but finding queequeg also awake, a blank look in their eyes that is all-too-familiar to ishmael, is new. it sends a pang through his heart, and without thinking he reaches up to queequeg's cheek.

queequeg's smile comes slow, but easy, as he turns to look at him, and ishmael's heart flutters in his chest. 

"can't sleep?"

queequeg hums softly, nods slowly. ishmael wants very badly to kiss him, and with a sudden burst of warmth realizes that he _can_ , now, that he gets to have this, gets to kiss queequeg whenever he wants, now (at least, when they're away from prying eyes), and so he does. leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of queequeg's mouth, moves his hand to cup their face as they smile against his lips. 

"hope i'm not rubbing off on you," ishmael mumbles, and queequeg's smile widens. "is everything alright?"

instead of an answer, queequeg turns his face, kisses ishmael's palm. "m'okay," queequeg mutters against his skin, sleep still thickening his voice so that the words come out like spilled honey.

ishmael shifts again, propping himself up against queequeg's chest. he studies them for a moment, eyes following the swirling pattern of their tattoos, again and again coming back to their soft, dark, brilliant eyes. he forgets, for a moment, what he had been trying to say. instead he leans in, kisses queequeg again, his chapped lips against their warm, soft mouth, and maybe it's just his own sleepiness talking but he's almost certain he tastes the honey in queequeg's voice.

he tilts his head back, just barely, lips still brushing theirs in the cold night air. he remembers, then, what he'd meant to ask: "what kept you up?"

queequeg shrugs. they stretch out an arm, shaking it from beneath ishmael's weight, wrap it up around his back. 

" _love_ ," ishmael says (giddy with the excitement that he can say that now, that he can call queequeg _love_ and _darling_ and _dear_ , that he can hold him and kiss him and tell him he loves him in every way he can think of), and queequeg lets out a low chuckle, "what's wrong?"

queequeg's eyes go distant again, and when he speaks his voice is small. "homesick," he whispers, barely audible, the slightest touch of shame lacing his voice.

ishmael's heart breaks a little at that. at the smallness in queequeg's words, in his frame, in the wavering of his voice. he pulls queequeg into a hug as best he can in their too-small bunk, tucks his face into the crook of queequeg's neck, presses a few gentle kisses there for good measure. queequeg curls up against him and he can feel their heart fluttering like seabirds' wingbeats in their chest. 

"i'm sorry," he says into queequeg's skin. "i wish i knew how to help," he says, and he does. he wishes he could understand queequeg better, queequeg and the strange, foreign world they told him of that first night in coffin's inn, wishes he could understand this piece of queequeg that he _knows_ is so deeply a part of who they are. his hand curls around the back of queequeg's head and queequeg hums contentedly against him, low and reverberating through their chest.

"s'okay," queequeg mumbles. "nothing new." they inhale slowly. "i miss them."

"your family?" ishmael asks. queequeg nods against him.

"family. my friends. my--" their voice catches. ish can hear queequeg mutter to themself in a language he does not understand, searching for the right word in english. "my _you_ ," they settle on finally, and ishmael understands. "i miss him." a pause. "i miss all of them."

ishmael squeezes tighter, then pulls back to look at queequeg, still rubbing soft circles into his back. "would -- would it help if you told me about it?" another pause. "about -- about home. your -- your family and all the rest."

queequeg is silent, and ishmael is worried he has said something wrong, worried he's crossed some unspoken boundary, but queequeg's face opens slowly into a smile, like stormclouds clearing and morning falling, and ishmael's heart flutters again. 

"could i?" queequeg asks, gentle and almost shy, and ishmael can feel himself melt under his sunshine gaze.

"of course, queequeg, of course you can. i -- i'd love to hear it. hear you." he chuckles. "lord knows you've listened to me ramble on enough. i -- i could listen to you forever. whatever you'd want to say."

that radiant smile again. queequeg shifts, turning to lie on his back, pulling ishmael with him so he is resting against his chest. ishmael reaches up a hand, brushing his thumb along queequeg's jawline. 

"tell me about your home," he asks, eyes wide and gentle.

"okay," queequeg says. and he does.

**Author's Note:**

> the image above should be described in the alt text, but i'm not quite sure how that works on ao3, so if it doesn't work, please let me know. it's also described in the [tumblr link](https://pocketsizedquasar.tumblr.com/post/641519526813581312/staying-up-late-listening-to-your-husband-ramble).  
> thank you for reading!


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